She reached for a bottle of nail polish, propped her foot on the railing closest to Michael’s balcony. As she stretched to apply the first stroke, the bottle flew out of her hand, soared over the railing, and landed on his redwood lounge. She stood at the railing and watched Red Hot Passion ooze onto the off-white cushions.
He is going to kill me. Especially if Heather, who preferred pastel colors in her clothing, sat before the polish dried.
She considered her options. She could leave town, but he would send a posse containing her mother and his to drag her back to face any punishment he wanted to mete out. So what to do? Call him, visit him or just ignore the situation.
Was he home? She’d seen him leave, but hadn’t noticed him return. Time’s wasting. She had to solve the problem, soon.
She tucked a wad of cotton and a plastic bottle of polish remover in the pocket of her white shorts. Then she gauged the distance between the balconies. Maybe three feet or less away. Doable. She leaned over the railing, using the chaise to push forward, and wiggled until she grasped the rail around his balcony. She wrapped her hands around the metal.
“Zelda!”
Michael’s shout startled her. When her legs flew from the railing, she nearly lost her grip. “Help!”
“If you’re trying to kill yourself, choose another location.”
She looked down and wished she hadn’t. “Michael, please.” His words had said one thing, but the edge of fear in his voice told her he cared. “Help me.”
“What’s it worth?”
“My life.”
“I’ll hold you to that.” He reached for her arms. “Will you leave me alone?”
“I can try.”
He leaned over, grasped her under her arms and hauled her over. Zelda’s toes found the lip of the balcony. As he dragged her over the edge, she pushed up. Her toes caught on the railing. She slammed into Michael. They landed on the redwood lounge with him on top. Red Hot Passion seeped into her shorts.
She tried to move, but Michael’s body pinned her to the cushions. She felt his skin on hers. She inhaled his citrus scent. Why was she behaving like a lump? He was where she’d wanted him for years. She stroked his arm. “Thanks.”
“What were you doing?” His words vibrated through her.
“Painting my nails.”
“By hanging from my balcony. You’re driving me crazy.”
“You do the same to me.” She wiggled closer and gazed into his emerald eyes.
“Zelda, no.”
Her wish had been granted. Here they were face to face. Her lips touched his. Fire raged, heating her blood. Lord, his kisses were lethal. He tightened his hold and turned so they lay side by side. He throbbed against her. She wanted more. He stroked her back.
She parted her lips. His tongue thrust with a rhythm she echoed by moving her hips. He jerked away.
“Zelda, are you hurt?”
“No.”
He waved his hand before her eyes. “Then what is this?”
“Red Hot Passion. That’s why…”
The doorbell rang. Michael jumped to his feet. “I’m late.” He grabbed her hand and dragged her thought the apartment. “Forget what happened.”
Forget one of the greatest moments of her life? He was insane if he thought she would ever forget their two kisses. Every second of that encounter was printed on her cells.
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2 comments:
What a great scene, Janet!
I"m trying to figure out, though, the physical relationship between the balconies. Are they next to eachother on the same level? Or is Michael's one floor below.
Either way, this is a fun way to get your characters into a kiss.
Wow, what a predicament. Though I had to giggle. So what happens next? Thanks for sharing! Good luck!
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